Nobody's Fault
by aces
Summary: What if Maggie HAD died in "Sailing Away"?


Wow

Wow...I wrote a fic that _wasn't_ just a scene already in the show...so be kind to me, I'm venturing into virgin territory here. Anyway, it's one of those good ol' "What if" question fics--what if Maggie _did_ die, as I thoroughly expected her to when I watched "Sailing Away"? And this is the scene that popped into my head...it's _not_ Abby/Carter ("No, actually, we're just good friends"...sorry, had a Beatles moment there); he's acting in a purely friendly, supportive role...not that I wouldn't _mind_ if those two got together...oh good grief, just read the story and tell me what you think. Slight bit of language, so watch out if you don't like swearing.

****

Nobody's Fault

"She might not wake up," Abby said, face set, as the elevator door slid shut on her.

Luka looked up and met Carter's eye. He walked away.

Carter heaved out a sigh.

* * *

She didn't wake up.

As soon as Carter heard the news, he went looking for Abby. She was in the first spot he thought of--on the roof. Everyone's safe haven at some point.

She stared over the edge of the building, hugging herself in her sweater. He could just see tears drying on her cheeks, but her face showed no sign of expression. She seemed numb.

Luka was busy with another trauma downstairs. Carter didn't know if he would have come up here if he hadn't known that. But at the moment he really wasn't sure of anything.

He stepped out of the shadows and stood next to her. But he didn't say anything. There was nothing adequate to say.

She sniffled once and glanced up at Carter. "It's over," she said.

John didn't know how to respond to that. So he just held her gaze.

Her face spasmed and she looked away. "She's dead, Carter," she said, voice rough. "My mother's dead."

He wanted to hold her, comfort her somehow, but he couldn't bring himself to touch her. Not without her permission. Not without her making the first move. So he just stood next to her, waiting.

"I killed her."

"No," he spoke at last, incapable of letting _that_ go unanswered. "No, you didn't. Neither of us knew she--"

"I should have!" Abby yelled up into his face. He took a step back, surprised. She also seemed surprised, then her face crumpled again, and she faced the roof edge again, unable to look him in the eye. "I should have taken better care of her," Abby whispered. She sniffled again and wiped her face, laughing bitterly. "Yeah. I've been taking care of my mother for twenty-five years. And I was tired of it. I was so fucking tired of it..." Tears were rolling down her face again. She rubbed at them angrily, but they wouldn't stop falling.

"It wasn't fair," Carter said quietly. "For you or your mother."

Abby shook her head, shook herself. "Her last words to me were 'thank you.' _Thank you_, Carter. And I let her die." John shook his head, almost angrily, and opened his mouth to speak, but she put up a hand, stopping him. "Don't," she said wearily. "Maybe it's for the best. It's finished now. Forever. For both of us." She gasped out another laugh and flung her head back, looking up at the sky. "It doesn't feel like it though. You know? It just feels like she's run away again. Like in a couple months I'll get another phone call from another hotel somewhere, telling me I need to--need to..." She slowly, inevitably, collapsed, dropping to the ground, sobs heaving at her body. She rocked back and forth, making no sound, her face twisted in silent pain.

Carter sat down next to her and pulled her to him. She cried into his sweatshirt. He held her and didn't speak.

He couldn't say anything to her. This whole weekend he'd felt awkward, treading where he didn't belong or couldn't understand in Abby's private life and problems. But he couldn't have let her deal with it all alone. She'd been doing that for too long.

Abby sat back at last, wiping her eyes, exhausted. Nothing had changed of course. She still didn't know how to deal with Maggie's death--it all felt so unresolved, unfinished. There'd been too much left unsaid, undone. So much that needed to be worked through. She'd loved and hated her mother, worried about her, cared for her, was angered and exhausted by her. It was, Abby thought with almost hysterical amusement, just like her mother to leave her up in the air permanently like this. Now nothing could be understood. She'd never had a chance with her mother.

That was her whole relationship with Maggie. Fits and starts. A failure. No, she couldn't believe Maggie was dead, because nothing had changed. Abby couldn't process the loss when it felt just the same as the rest of her life.

She realized Carter was watching her, concern written all over his face. He really had been wonderful this weekend, doing much more than she could ever have asked for. It made her feel guilty. And vulnerable. She almost felt as if she'd let him see too much of her life. He'd seemed so young the whole weekend, so inexperienced and... innocent. Fumbling his way through a bizarre and uncomfortable situation he couldn't possibly hope to fathom. But he'd coped, just like he always managed to do somehow. And he was still doing so much for her.

"I can't process it," she told him. "She can't be dead. It's not _allowed_. We need to work through all the shit first." She sighed. "It always ends badly between mom and me. Why should this be any different?"

Carter took her hand. She looked up at him, mildly surprised. "I'm sorry," he told her simply. Somehow it managed not to sound false or inadequate.

"It's not your fault," Abby insisted.

"It's not yours either," he answered quietly. He added after a moment, "Or Maggie's."

She nodded. Maybe he was right. It wasn't anybody's fault. It just was.

Abby leant forward and kissed Carter quickly on the cheek. She sat back, saw the same flare of surprise in his soft brown eyes that had probably been in hers a few moments before. "Thank you." Her voice was muted, neutral, in the silence of the roof.

Carter sighed, understanding that nothing had changed for Abby, knowing that it would be a long time before she could deal with this. The silence stretched between them, only the wind against the rooftop making any sound. At last he spoke up, his own voice soft in the darkness.

"You're welcome."


End file.
